In His Time of Dying
by MoonlitSky321
Summary: Harry's blood boiled. Oh yes, of course. He had saved them all form Voldemort, risked his life and actually died to defeat the Dark Lord, and this is how they repay him. They ignore him; after all, they don't need him anymore. He has done his purpose. They were safe and they can go and live their lives and throw him behind their footsteps.


_**Note: **Do you know that one single thought that invades your mind while you're writing another thought and you have to stop your first because you don't want to mingle it with the second? See? That's what I am experiencing right now!_

_I hope you enjoy!_

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not own Harry Potter, sadly! :( Or Percy Jackson! ;(_

-.-

_**In His Time of Dying**_

He opened his eyes to the sight of the Hospital Wing's ceiling. He groaned—he had lost count on how many times he woke up to the same view. But he knew this time it wasn't because of a minor injury obtained from the hallway or a major injury acquired by a Quidditch match.

He had just defeated Voldemort.

Harry Potter blinked.

The hospital wing was eerily quiet. He thought that he would hear a lot of hustling and bustling as Madam Pomfrey hurried from patient to patient with healing potions and spells. But no such thing was heard. Harry also realized that, surprisingly, he didn't feel any pain. That was odd; for he was sure he had gotten his fair share of hexes and curses flung at him. He was pretty sure he had a nasty gash on his side, his arms, his legs, his forehead, and…well, it goes on.

He raised his arm towards his face. It didn't seem like it had been burned by an _Incendio_ recently. In fact, his arm looked as good and new as it did when he started his first year.

Madam Pomfrey is really good with her work, he mused, thoughtfully, sitting up and swinging his legs over the bed.

He needed to get out and walk. The beds were all neat and untouched. Harry frowned. Just how long has he been unconscious? He exited the hospital wing and made his way towards the Great Hall. The castle was still in ruins, but it was slowly regaining its shape. He could see several professors casting repairing spells on the broken debris on the floor. Some of the students, too, where helping.

Harry spotted Neville Longbottom waving his wand to repair a wall. Neville had a bandage wrapped around his head, and he limped slightly as he shifted his position. Harry made his way towards him.

_Hey, Neville,_ Harry greeted, quietly.

Neville did not react or look at him. He simply shifted his position to the right, muttered a spell, and kept his eyes focused on the levitating stones.

Harry frowned. _Neville? Hey, mate, I am talking to you!_

But Neville Longbottom did not even give him a second glance.

Perplexed, Harry moved a bit around his friend, waving his arms and calling for attention. If Neville heard him, he did not indicate it. He seemed genuinely unaware of Harry's presence.

Now angered, Harry stormed away from his friend. He ran past Professor Trelawney, who was walking around with shaky steps and a bottle of sherry in her hand. Harry stopped.

_Professor Trelawney!_ he called, loud enough for the old professor to hear. But the professor ignored him and kept on her strut. Harry marched over and kept his pace with her.

_Hullo! Professor! I am right here!_ he yelled, his voice echoing loudly around the broken walls.

The professor paused for the fleetest second, tilted her head in confusion, but then kept on walking.

Harry's blood boiled. Oh yes, of course. He had saved them all form Voldemort, risked his life and actually _died_ to defeat the Dark Lord, and this is how they repay him. They ignore him; after all, they don't need him anymore. He has done his purpose. They were safe and they can go and live their lives and throw him behind their footsteps.

In his haze of anger, he saw the solitary figure of Hermione Granger walking towards the hospital wing in slow, sad steps. Harry paused, unsure of whether he should approach and talk to her.

What if she ignored him too? What if she pretended that he wasn't there as well? He didn't think he would be able to handle it if his best friend acted that way. Hermione had rounded the corner now, and after a moment's hesitation, Harry hurried after her.

She had already opened the hospital wing's doors and entered. He frowned a bit, unsure. Why was Hermione in the hospital wing in the first place? No one was there! He slapped his forehead. Of course, she wanted to make sure he was okay, but she didn't know that he was already up and about.

He allowed a small smile to tug his lips. Maybe, his best friend will not ignore him after all.

He pushed open the doors. _Hermione, I—_

The sight before him froze him to the very core. Hermione was there, all right, sitting quietly beside the bed he had just abandoned. On the bed, an unconscious Harry Potter lay, breathing shallowly and looking almost broken with all the bandages wrapped around his wounds.

-.-

"How long will this last, Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione Granger questioned, quietly, looking at the unconscious form of her best friend. "It has been three weeks already."

The nurse heaved a sigh, shaking her head. "I do not know, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter's magic level is stable now, and his heart is beating regularly. Yet, his mind seems to be in a constant state of oblivion. I do not know what to think of it…"

"But he'll be alright in the end, wouldn't he?" Hermione inquired, voice cracking a bit with repressed hope.

"I do hope so, Miss Granger…"

Harry stood at the other side of the bed, watching the two witches talking. He was completely ignored by them, of course, and he could now understand why. He wasn't even there! His body was there, lying broken and unconscious before him, but _he_ wasn't there. He wasn't matter or substance. He was simply a figment of an imagination. Or was it something else…?

Harry had heard about out-of-body experiences before, and wondered if what he was going through was one of those experiences. It seemed likely and it was the only explanation he could come up with. If only Hermione could hear him, if only he could talk to her—

She always had the answers, and he needed them so much now.

"Miss Granger, you should head back to the dorms and get some sleep." Madam Pomfrey was saying, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Hermione shook her head, her brown eyes fixed on Harry's pale face. "No. I would rather stay here, please."

Madam Pomfrey knew that any amount of persisting wouldn't do any good, so she left the young witch sitting beside her friend and walked over to her room after reminding her that she should call her if Harry gave any indication of waking up or other signs.

Once she was sure Madam Pomfrey was out of sight, Hermione reached out and began running her hand through the messy hair of the unconscious body. Harry, watching the scene, closed his eyes, trying to remember the feeling of her hand running through his hair—like that stolen moment in the tent…

"Harry," Hermione whispered, softly.

_Yes?_ Harry answered, although he knew she wouldn't be able to hear him.

"You're the strongest man I know," she informed him, softly. "So, fight it, Harry, please. You have to come back…" her voice choked, and she laid her forehead on his still hand.

As he saw her shoulders shaking, Harry wished with all his might that he was really there; if only for a few moments. If only to comfort his best friend…

-.-

Harry wandered around the halls of Hogwarts silently. No one gave him a second glance, or knew he was there for that matter. In a way, Harry did not mind the new form of privacy. Usually, when he would walk down the halls, people would stare at him and begin to whisper behind their hands while shooting glances. He dreaded the moment he would actually walk from class to class.

But now, his sense of invisibility was his sanctuary from their prying eyes. He was grateful for it.

On the other hand, he really wanted to walk down these halls for real and celebrate with everyone else that the nightmare was over. He wanted to attend every funeral for every hero and heroine that died protecting their world, and pay them what they deserve.

He didn't want to die just yet.

He reached the magnificent doors of the Great Hall and stood before them. They were wide open and he could see that it was completely repaired. Students were sitting on their respective house table, eating lunch.

Harry smiled as he saw Ron sitting on the Gryffindor table, eating as slowly as he could. Neville sat next to him, poking his food while Seamus and Dean were engaged in a heated conversation.

Harry advanced towards them, and sat down on an empty space. He reached out to touch the food, but his hand passed through it. He sighed. He knew that he couldn't eat or drink as long as he was simply a ghost.

"When do you think it'll end?" Neville asked, quietly.

Ron sighed. "I don't know, mate. I went to see him yesterday. Madam Pomfrey says he's stable, but she isn't sure why he's not waking up."

Seamus looked at him. "Did she identify the spell that hit him just after he finished off You-Know-Who?"

"No." Ron shook his head. "Hermione is searching about it. She won't leave the library at the morning. And she won't leave the hospital wing at night except for necessities."

Harry sighed. So he had been hit by a spell, eh? Well, that would explain why he was out of his body and roaming the Hogwarts ground like a ghost. He wondered briefly if the other ghosts in Hogwarts could see him. He needed to test it out as soon as possible. But first, he wanted to see what Hermione was up to.

He stood to leave the Great Hall, but paused when he saw Lavender Brown walk up to Ron and kiss him. Harry gaped for a few minutes at the couple, before he felt his blood boiling again.

Abruptly, the glass of pumpkin juice, which was in front of Ron, levitated and dumped its contents on its former drinker. Ron sputtered incoherently. Lavender fuzzed over him. Dean, Seamus, and Neville stared at him in surprise.

Albeit confused, Harry left the Great Hall feeling very satisfied. How dare Ron kiss Lavender like that when he was supposed to be with Hermione! Harry saw the kiss during the war. And if it had indicated anything, then Ron and Hermione were officially a couple now, weren't they?

And here Ron was kissing another girl like Hermione meant nothing!

He was really glad for his invisibility right now, because he was sure that if anyone saw him, they would know exactly how Voldemort died.

He paused in his angry strides.

His emerald eyes took in the form of Ginny Weasley kissing her ex-boyfriend Michael Corner. Curiously enough, he did not feel angry, shocked, or even sad. Harry had known that he and Ginny drifted apart during the hunt. Something between them drifted, and although he'll always cherish the bit of normalcy she provided in his sixth year, he did not need it now.

The war forced him to grow up quickly. Ginny still had her whole life of fun and games to look forward too.

He passed the couple without a second glance, and continued his way towards the library. He found Hermione exactly where he knew he would find her. Last table to the corner, hunched over a book, hair falling in soft waves around her, curtaining her away from the outside world.

Harry smiled softly at the scene, watching as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she turned the page, biting her lip in concentration. She looked completely in her element with the book open, and another three surrounding her.

Harry sat down on a vacant chair and continued observing his best friend, unnoticed.

-.-

Days blended together, and before he knew it, a whole week has gone by. Everyday was the same. He sat at the corner silently, watching Hermione read book after book in the library. At night, he watched Madam Pomfrey take his vital signs and Hermione sitting by his bedside, holding his hand and talking to his unconscious body. Throughout the whole day, people would come and go—Neville, Ron, Ginny, Dean, Seamus, Luna, and many others. Even Malfoy came and visited him once.

He learned that Ron and Hermione had decided to stay friends. The kiss they shared was simply the heat of the moment and they discovered it was like kissing a sibling than anything else.

Harry felt a bit guilty at accusing Ron of cheating on Hermione, but he felt confused as well about the relief that came with the news.

Now, he was sitting at the corner of the hospital wing again, watching Hermione stroke his hair out of his forehead. His body was still unconscious, but some color was regained to his skin. Madam Pomfrey did not know if that was a good or a bad sign.

Harry hoped it was a good sign. He was sick of having to wander around the castle unnoticed, listening to people talking and living their lives. He wanted to get up from that bed, and do _something_! He wanted to squeeze Hermione's hand that seemed to be constantly holding his. He wanted to feel her skin against his again.

He got up from his place and walked over to stand beside her chair. She was whispering something to his body, but Harry honestly wasn't listening. He was watching her thumb stroke his cold knuckles gently. Her hand seemed to mold perfectly against his.

He reached out to touch her hand, but his own hand fell through hers.

Harry choked back a sob. He had no problem sitting on a chair or the floor, but he couldn't touch anything else.

_Hermione!_ Harry said. _Please, look at me…_

But she simply continued whispered to his still body, completely unaware that he was watching her and listening to her voice.

Harry wished there was some way to allow him to tell her that he was here. He wished there was any way to just tell her that he was fine. Because he knew that if anyone can help him out of this situation, it was her. She always had the answers to his problems.

"I wonder if you're dreaming right now," she suddenly said, stroking the side of his face. "I wonder what you're seeing…"

Harry smiled sadly. _I wish this was a dream, Hermione. I wish…_

Hermione suddenly smiled. "You know, I wish I could wake you up just like every time. I simply have to whisper _treacle tart_ in your ear, and you'll be up and about in no time."

Harry barked a laugh. It was a good trick she had once used on him when he was deeply asleep. It had become her secret weapon from then on.

Her thumb stopped stroking his knuckles. "You know what I wish for too, Harry?" she said, tears sparkling in her eyes. "I wish you would squeeze my hand back."

_Hermione…_

"I wish you would open your eyes and look at me."

_I am looking at you…_

"Harry, I—"

Abruptly, his whole body jerked. Harry jumped, startled, as Hermione quickly stood up, holding his hand tightly. "Harry!"

His body gave a sudden jerk again, and his back arched. A white light seemed to envelope it completely.

"Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione shrieked, panic seizing her mind. "Madam Pomfrey!"

Harry watched silently, transfixed, as his body continued jerking. His eyes were still closed, but he could feel something shifting. He looked down at himself, and felt his blood run cold.

He was flickering in and out of reality. Was he even in reality anymore? He didn't know, but he knew something bad was happening.

_Am I dying?_

Madam Pomfrey hurried down the aisle, her wand in hand. She stopped beside his body, and muttered a spell. His body stopped shaking and jerking, but the white light continued to glow around him.

"Quick, Miss Granger, bring me the yellow potion on the third shelf!" the nurse commanded.

Hermione hurried out of sight. Harry was still looking at himself, watching as he flickered in and out rapidly. She returned in no time, and Madam Pomfrey took the potion from her and hurried slipped a good portion of it in a glass.

Hermione took hold of his glowing hand. "Harry, please, fight it! Don't give in, please! Stay with me!"

Harry watched her, as he flicked in and out; wishing with all his might that he could fight it. But how can you fight something you don't know? Madam Pomfrey forced his mouth open, and the thick yellow potion was forced into his mouth. Hermione massaged his throat and he watched as his still body swallowed the liquid. Five seconds later, the glow relinquished and he lay as still as he was before, his breathing normal. Harry's ghost body stopped flickering as well, and he stood as whole as he could get, looking at the scene.

The nurse sighed, slumping into a chair. "I don't understand what happened. His magic level is unstable again."

Hermione caught her breath.

Madam Pomfrey saw the look on her face. "Don't fret, Miss Granger. He's safe now."

"But what if it happens again?" Hermione's eyes leaked her tears.

The nurse sighed. "Let's hope it doesn't." and she walked back to her quarters.

Hermione Granger stood beside his bed for the longest time, holding his hand with tears streaming down her cheeks. Harry wished he could wipe away her tears, and for the hundredth time tonight, he wanted to yell at her to look at him!

"Harry…" she choked, salty crystals escaping her eyes furiously now. "You have to come back! You can't leave me—"

_I don't want to leave you! _Harry shouted, moving towards her. _Please, Hermione, look at me!_

"—I don't want to lose you! I _can't_ lose you, Harry James Potter! Open your eyes! Come back to me!"

Without really thinking about it, Harry threw his arms around her, knowing well that they would pass through her. They did, and Hermione did not react in the slightest, continuing to cry and beg him to come back, but he didn't care.

"Come back to me!"

He simply held on, his eyes closed tight, wishing he could feel the warmth of her body against his.

-.-

Harry was standing in front of his still body the next day when Hermione burst into the hospital wing, hair a mess and panting. He watched her from his place, completely unnoticed of course, as she called out to Madam Pomfrey.

"What is all the commotion about, Miss Granger?" the nurse asked, sharply.

"I know—what it is!" Hermione gasped, producing a book from her the bag she had slung on her shoulder. "It's a—"

Madam Pomfrey took the book from Hermione's shaking hands and opened to the marked page. Her eyes widened.

"Oh Merlin, it's a soul extraction spell!"

"Complicated stuff," Hermione said, regaining her breath slowly. "Dark magic. Is there a counter curse? I have looked for a counter curse, but found none."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "I do not know, Miss Granger. Leave this with me. I'm going to research a few things."

"But—what about Harry? The curse hit him! Does this mean that his soul was extracted from his body?"

Madam Pomfery eyed the still body of the young wizard, noting the steady rise and fall of its chest. "No, Miss Granger, I do not believe that his soul has been extract—his body would only be a dead shell. But he's breathing. And I understand why his magic level is going unstable…"

"He's fighting the curse." Hermione whispered.

"And overcoming it," Madam Pomfrey reassured her. "However, I do believe that something has been extracted from Mr. Potter. If not his whole soul, this at least a figment of it, a silver of his subconscious."

Harry's eyes widened. _Subconscious…?_

Hermione swallowed. "And…and he could be anywhere?" she looked around herself, taking in the empty room. Her eyes passed Harry, but quickly flickered past him.

_I'm here_, he whispered desperately. _Hermione, I'm here…_

"Yes, Miss Granger. He could be anywhere. Maybe even here. Of course, we can't see him or hear him."

Hermione's face fell.

Harry strode over towards her, his hand falling right through her shoulder as he reached out to touch it. _Hermione!_

"I'll research this, Miss Granger." Madam Pomfrey walked back to her quarters.

Hermione walked over to Harry's body. Harry followed her. She looked around her, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of something she knew she couldn't see. However, he might hear her if she talked.

Harry reached out to touch her chin so that she could look at him, but his hand fell away once again. He sighed sadly.

_Hermione, I'm right in_ _front of you_, he whispered, gently, knowing that she couldn't hear him, but he just had to try.

"Harry, I—I am not sure if you're here, listening to me, but I guess it's worth a try, so…" she took a deep breath, looking at the corner. Harry positioned himself, so that he was looking into her eyes.

"Come back, Harry. Please, I know that you might think that you have nothing to do now, that your destiny is fulfilled and whatnot, but you still have so much to live for, Harry! Your whole life is in front of you now! You can do whatever you want."

Harry had to smile. Yet again, Hermione was able to understand what he was feeling even when he wasn't _there_—technically. It wasn't that Harry didn't want to live; he was afraid of living _alone_.

In the past couple of days, he had travelled along Hogwarts and watched as everyone went on with their lives, made plans for the future, settled down with the ones they love, and moved on from the things that used to anchor them from what they really wanted.

Even if he came back, what was he supposed to do? As Hermione had pointed out, he had fulfilled his destiny. Nothing was tying him down; nothing was expected from him now. And that somewhat unsettled him.

But maybe, he wouldn't be alone. Hermione would be there, waiting for him, standing beside him like every time. But will she always be there? Harry knew that she had her own life to pursue, and her own dreams to make true. Life might make them drift apart, and he wasn't sure he could stand alone. He needed her to stand beside him, to take his hand, and lead him to the right direction.

"I'm here, Harry," she took hold of his warm hand, and he wished desperately that he could feel it. He had taken that touch for granted too many times—he wanted to cherish it forever now.

He floated over towards her, and stood right behind her shoulder. He leaned down, and rested his forehead just above her collarbone.

_But will you always be here, Hermione?_

"Yes."

Harry jerked his head back, startled. Hermione looked startled as well as she wiped her head around frantically, her eyes desperate for a thread of his existence in the room.

"Harry?!" her voice rose an octave.

Did she really just hear him? Did he really just communicate with someone? He bit his lip: could he do it again?

_Hermione? _he tried, slowly.

But she kept looking around the room, her eyes welling up in tears. "Harry? Are you really here?"

_Hermione!_ Harry called out, louder this time.

She did not hear him.

Harry sighed in frustration, wishing he could punch something. Hermione turned around, and for a second, it seemed that she looked right at him. He held his breath. She paused.

Time slowed down.

Finally, she squeezed her eyes shut, and a tear trickled down her cheek. "I'm here. I have always been here."

Harry reached out and cupped her cheek, although he couldn't feel it: _I know._

-.-

Hermione watched as Madam Pomfrey chanted the counter spell over Harry's still, breathing body. It was very complicated spell work, but Hermione held to her faith in the nurse's abilities and Harry's hand tightly.

Ron stood behind her, squeezing her shoulder every now and then as a faint white glow surrounded Harry's body. A few minutes later, Madam Pomfrey stepped back, sweat trickling down her brow.

"It's done."

"He'll wake up?" Ron asked, hopefully.

She nodded. "Any minute now."

Hermione held her breath. Her heart thumped inside her chest, and she counted the minutes using it. Before long, Harry's mouth twitched, and his eyes fluttered open. His hand squeezed hers.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, happily.

Hermione choked back a sob of relief.

Harry's head tilted towards her. Her emerald eyes looked into her brown ones, and they were _so_ warm.

He whispered, hoarsely: "I'm back."

"I'm here." She replied, tears making their way down her red cheeks.

"I know." He squeezed her hand again, cherising her warmth.

-.-

_**The End!**_

_**Note: **I have no idea what I just wrote, since I am half-asleep so, please tell me what you think! :) Your opinion matters the most, after all! _

_Take care!_


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